It’s serene. There’s bright green grass and a baby blue sky. The trees stand still, flowers tangling around their trunks. It almost looks like something out of a storybook or a postcard, watercolour on canvas. I think I can hear birds singing like a choir, illuminating the woodland surrounding us. He sits there in the middle of it all, an angel on earth, sharp shoulder blades straining to give way to heavenly wings. I sit next to him and I feel out of place, jagged where he is smooth, dark where he is light, broken where he is whole.
“It’s nice here,” I say, because I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. What do you tell your best friend when he doesn’t remember you?
“I think so. I don’t have anythin’ to compare it to.” His voice is like a breath of fresh air. I think the whole world would stand still to listen to the boy dressed in white. He smiles, and his white teeth are like a halo in his mouth. “They told me your name. Steve.” I feel ripped apart and put back together all at once.
“They tell ya much else?” Even I can hear my voice catch in my throat, heavy and worn. He smiles sadly.
“That ya aren’t s’posed ta tell me anythin’.” He pauses. “But I want you to.” I purse my lips, my bad thoughts threatening to chew me up and not even spit me back out the other end.
They told me I had to give his brain the chance to recover. They said an overload of information could cause him short circuit. We could lose all the progress they’ve made. I consider him for a moment. He’s been there with me through everything. He’s been my everything. He’s never asked me for much, always giving, never taking.
To hell with it.
“What’d ya wanna know, Buck?”